


Keep it secret

by QueenXIV



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Combeferre obviously know that secret, Enjolras has a secret, Jehan Is Agender, M/M, cause you know, combeferre duh, courfeyrac wants to know it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 14:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8106274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenXIV/pseuds/QueenXIV
Summary: Enjolras has a secret. And of course, the only one who knows what it is is Combeferre.





	

**Author's Note:**

> SOOOOOOO the secret yeah well you shall see. It's a spur of the moment. I honestly got inspired because I got my second one done (yeah, my second secret :3) and well, I wondered, would Enjolras have... secrets?
> 
> Also, it's my first time using gender-neutral pronouns so I hope I got them right. Sorry if I didn't!!!

It was common knowledge among their group that Enjolras was shy about his body. Nobody knew why, after all, he, as Grantaire made sure to remind him every other day, resembled a Greek god, both in face and character (presuming it’s an avenging god we’re talking about). So surely, judging by his slim frame and his toned arms (he did wear short sleeves, he was human, after all) he surely had the body to match the face. Not that Enjolras would care about that type of things, he was the epitome of equality. He encouraged people to love themselves no matter what they looked like and judged nobody by their appearance. 

“Of course he is not concerned about appearances. I am his boyfriend.” 

“R! Stop underestimating yourself! You’re beautiful.” Jehan exclaimed, slapping zir cynic friend across his chest. Grantaire stuck out his tongue at Jehan, his eyes glinting. Enjolras and him had been going steady for almost two months now and he couldn’t be happier about it. He had almost stopped drinking with a lot of help from his friends and his boyfriend, and, of course, therapy and he had started painting again, something he had abandoned when his depression had become worse. With a lot of therapy and treatment he had been able to paint his Apollo again. And, his Apollo, seeing how strong he was, was charmed into going on a date with him. And although the first one had been a bit disastrous because Grantaire was not exactly recovered, he had had a bit too much to drink and Enjolras had the worst of tempers, well… Let’s just say they weren’t allowed into that restaurant anymore. 

However, there was this underlying anxiety that was eating his insides. Enjolras did not let Grantaire touch him. Sure, they did kiss and make out, quite too much if you asked Combeferre (and yet too chastely if you asked Courfeyrac), but every time things got steamier and Grantaire tried to sneak a hand under Enjolras t-shirt or sweater the blond just separated himself, blushing crazily and inventing some poorly-thought excuse. 

Of course Grantaire would never pressure his lovely boyfriend into anything, after all, his hand had been enough for years, yet, he would have liked to know what was the matter. Was Enjolras not comfortable with him or it was the thought of sex that made him squirm? Maybe I am the problem? Grantaire could not help but ask himself that, and every time his heart clenched and the fear of losing his new boyfriend made him dizzy. 

“Combeferre,” said Courfeyrac, drapping himself over his boyfriends’ back, peppering his neck with kisses. “surely you must have seen Enjolras shirtless or even naked, sharing flat and all that.” 

Combeferre extricated himself from his boyfriend with a grin and shook his head, putting his book away. 

“Enjolras is very private, you all know it. If anyone should be asked about his body it should be him or his boyfriend.” Grantaire blushed and shook his head vehemently when the rest stared expectantly at him. “And still,” Combeferre continued, trying to regain everyone’s attention. “you all shouldn’t be so nosey. What Enjolras does with his body is his own business and no one else’s.” 

“So, R!” Courfeyrac exclaimed, now draping himself over his friend. “Naked Enjolras eh.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows and smirking. Jehan giggled beside him and wiggled zir eyebrows too. 

“Fuck you all. None of your business.” 

“So you haven’t…? Not yet…? So Enjolras is still a….? Oh my goodness!” Courfeyrac has screeched so loud that Combeferre and Enjolras’ neighbours probably had their eardrums pierced. 

“Shut up you stupid baguette!” Grantaire gritted. 

“What kind of insult is that, R? Really, we’re in Paris, we’re all French here. Shame on you and all your cows.” 

“Whose cows are you talking about, Courfeyrac.” Enjolras’ voice coming from the entrance of the flat startled the four of them. Grantaire’s heart stopped beating for a moment, dreading the moment Enjolras would come barging into his living room to break up with him for talking with his friends about their personal matters. But he seemed to heave heard nothing, as he smiled at them (or what Enjolras said was a smile, the others just thought it was the briefest of lifting of the corners of his mouth) and went into the kitchen probably to prepare himself a cup of coffee. 

“Did he hear anything?” Jehan whispered, looking sideways into the kitchen where Enjolras was muttering something about stupid kettles. 

“Doesn’t look like it… Sometimes his obliviousness pays off…” Courfeyrac answered. Grantaire glared at him and punched his arm, making Courfeyrac wail. 

“Hey, it’s my boyfriend you’re talking about.” 

Courfeyrac just glared at him and stuck out his tongue, seeking refugee on Combeferre’s lap. 

Soon enough, Enjolras exited the kitchen and sat down on Courfeyrac’s vacated seat beside R, where the artist cuddled up to him in no time. With so much bad luck that he smacked Enjolras’ coffee cup and the beverage spilled down the blonde’s shirt. Enjolras immediately sat up, hissing as he tried to keep the coffee from burning his skin, separating his shirt a few millimetres of it. Grantaire sat up instantly and tried to take off Enjolras’ shirt, muttering and begging apologies profusely, all the way trying to wipe out the growing brown stain. Enjolras huffed and separated himself from his boyfriend, grabbing Grantaire’s hands to still them. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay. It doesn’t matter, really, R, I’ll just put it in the wash. I’ll go and change.” Enjolras left and went into his room, shutting the door after him. Combeferre was already up and cleaning up the mess, trying to minimize the stain in the sofa. Courfeyrac and Jehan were looking at each other sideways, like communicating something only them could understand. 

“God, Ferre, I’m so sorry. I-I will pay for the dry cleaner. Gosh, I am so clumsy.”

“Hey, don’t worry. The stain will go away, it’s not like it’s the first time coffee has been spilled on this sofa. It’s Enjolras we’re talking about. You should go and see him, see if he’s burnt or something.” Combeferre guided R towards Enjolras room with a kind smile and left him at the door on his own, returning to the living room where Courfeyrac was watching him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

Grantaire knocked twice on the door, but receiving no answer he entered, worrying that his also clumsy boyfriend had fallen and knocked himself out cold or something while changing his shirt. In his defence, it wouldn’t have been the first time. But he did not find Enjolras on the floor. The blonde had his shirt halfway up, tangled around his arms and his head, what left Grantaire a perfect view of his silky chest. And when he says silky he means exactly that. White, and probably soft to the touch, something Grantaire couldn’t wait to find out. He didn’t have any hair on it but he had something… Something over his heart…

“Oh my god.” Grantaire gasped, feeling himself faint and dizzy. He reached for the doorknob, something that would support his trembling legs. 

His boyfriend had a fucking tattoo. On his chest. Enjolras had a fucking tattoo and he had told nobody. Or maybe… Combeferre surely did know that he had it. It was three words in cursive, the first one red, the second one in white ink that almost didn’t appear to be there, and the third one in red. Liberté, Egalité, Franternité. It was so Enjolras that Grantaire couldn’t bear it. He whimpered helplessly and looked at Enjolras, who was still buried in his shirt. 

“Grantaire? I could use a hand over here.” 

The cynic instantly helped his boyfriend out of his stained shirt, throwing it on the floor when he manages to liberate him. Enjolras’ curls were ruffled and he had a fierce blush on his cheeks. He covered his chest self-consciously, covering his tattoo. Grantaire was still speechless and he felt like his brain wouldn’t be able to function correctly ever again. 

“You got a tattoo…” Grantaire whispered, like it was forbidden to say it out loud. Enjolras blushed harder and made to grab a shirt from his closet but Grantaire quickly moved in the way of it and shook his head vehemently. “No! Don’t cover it! I-I… I wanna see it… Please… It’s just… You look beautiful…” 

“You like it?” 

“Are you really asking this?”

“It’s just, I wasn’t sure. I know you’ve got tattoos but I just… And then it… Only Combeferre knows, really.” Enjolras stuttered and Grantaire made himself a mental note to always remember that moment, because you did not see Enjolras stutter every day. 

“Mind you, I’m not judging, I’m sure you have your reasons but… How come you told Ferre and not… me?” 

Enjolras sighed and sat down on his bed, still covering his chest with his arms. Grantaire kneeled down in front of him and took his arms away, discovering the tattoo again. Enjolras nodded and Grantaire, with shy fingers, traced the words softly. It was still bumpy, so it was new. 

“I got it done like… I don’t know, two weeks after we started dating. I wasn’t really sure about it, that’s why I didn’t tell you anything. I am awfully afraid of needles and well, blood isn’t my preferred thing either, so I asked Ferre to accompany me. I didn’t want you to see me fainting in case... Well, in case I did faint. Which I didn’t, by the way. And then it kind of got a bit infected and Ferre had to cure it and I didn’t want to show it to you until it was fully cured and it looked nice that’s why… Well, that’s why we haven’t, you know.” 

Grantaire touched the tattoo again and smiled at his boyfriend, whose blush had diminished quite a bit. 

“I love it… It’s just so you. Of course you would get that tattooed.” Enjolras grinned and pushed Grantaire away, grabbing a shirt from his closet. After putting it on he turned to face Grantaire, who was smirking at him. “Man, Courfeyrac would pay so much money to know a secret like this.” He grabbed his boyfriend by the hips and kissed him breathlessly. Enjolras grabbed Grantaire’s hair, pulling him down to kiss him more thoroughly. He had wanted to be intimate with his boyfriend for long already, and now his secret had been discovered he couldn’t wait a minute more. 

“But” Grantaire continued while Enjolras kissed down his neck.“I think we can keep it a secret for a few more minutes. Apollo, I have tattoos that you haven’t seen yet, want me to show them to you?”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! Please leave kudos and comments and let me know :)


End file.
